pencil shavings

eleven: the first encounter

The soldiers rushed in with a trampling fury that shook the very heart of the valley. Trees stooped to watch, birds shrieked with surprise, shrubs cringed away from the thundering hooves. But the beautiful knight at the water's edge didn't move. She hadn't moved at all since she finished burying every one of her soldiers, fighting the pain of those deaths as the wind bit through to her aching bones.

Nothing could touch her anymore, she thought, as the cold from the breeze off the lake seeped into what little warmth left coiled in her heart. Nothing, nothing, nothing... that was the only word she could feel echoing in the hollow caverns of her chest. And then, steady as the clomping of the calvary she knew was approaching, the names surfaced from an inky pool deep within her.

Augustus. Ruby. Draco. Florian. Diane. Lloyd...

Sir Hercules stopped dead when he saw the knight, the famed and revered Lady Kaileen of Henderhill, kneeling on the moss. He dismounted gracefully, yet faltered a little in his steps. As the last of his men came into the clearing, the forest fell silent, not a soul daring to move in her godlike presence. Everyone watched Hercules, a foot from the knight, her back to him as she stared away into the emptiness of the lake, unmoving save for wind-tossed strands of hair.

"You must be cold," Hercules rumbled at last, but he didn't dare approach the knight any more.

There was a pause before she drew in a sharp breath to speak.

"Sir knight, why do you come to this cursed place? It is not fitting for the living."

Her voice was as if from a dream, calm and low, resonant with the power of a queen. Hercules took a breath to steady himself.

"You may need help," he said finally, looking around the clearing. That's when he saw the rows. Thirteen across, eight down. Rows of stones on uneven dirt, each with a name at its base. He looked back at the knight in awe.

"You - you buried them all. Alone."

"They all deserve better."

Her mind was wheeling. Alana. Joana. Cath. Cassian. Marek...

"I'm so sorry."

Kaileen finally took a deep breath, rising with grace and turning to face the handsome knight in the gold colors of the North.

Hercules hardly contained his shock. Beautiful. Just beautiful. Her eyes like the tumult of the sea, her short-cropped hair nearly silver in color, her lithe body bringing her nearly as tall as he. So this was the most revered warrior on the continent.

"It's not your fault. Go home, men." Her voice demanded such respect that all the soldiers on horseback bowed their heads with one sweep from those daunting eyes.

"We, cannot, you understand. It is our duty-"

"This is no mortal's duty, Knight. Go. Home."

"My Lady, this is irrational thought-"

"One hundred and four dead." Kaileen surprised herself with the steadiness of her own voice. She stepped toward the golden haired knight and stared deep into his chestnut eyes. "One hundred and four of the best warriors we have ever seen, killed like stomping ants in an ant hill. It is an irrational thought to stay in such a place, you realize. Irrational to so much as come for a moment with anything you love. So when I say go home, I mean it not as degradation to your honor, but as a warning for your very life, your very soul. Go, Sir Knight. This is no place for the honorable."

The silence after was deafening.

"And yet you stay," Hercules countered. He fought to hold her stare.

"I have personal matters to attend to here. Go, before I make you."

Even with her threat chilling the air, Hercules held her stormy gaze. "Men, go back," he said, without looking away from Kaileen. "Make camp a few miles outside of the valley. Leave my horse and some food - weapons too."

And then he waited.

The short-haired woman before him said nothing, and they stayed there, watching eachother, as the wind picked at their hair and their clothes, and the soldiers receded into the foliage with faint mutters, and the sun fell silently toward the horizon. Gold light fractured the mountains into a gradient of yellows, sparkling like champagne on the lake, but the two knights just stood there, unmoving, aware that the entire valley held its breath.

Held its breath for what would come, and what would come again.

Augustus. Ruby. Draco. Florian...